Chapter 1. Kissing The Wrong Man

Gwen POV

I watched my reflection in the vanity mirror in excitement.

Today is my wedding day, and like my stylist, I wanted to look impeccable for my groom, Damon Mark Olson.

“You are absolutely stunning, dear. Damon would be so proud.” My best friend, Lou Becker, who is also my maid of honor, said excitedly.

“She’s more than stunning. She looked perfect.” My stylist argued after giving her handiwork a last once-over. Then, she pulled the veil over my head to complete my look.

“There.” She announced chirpily.

Happiness gurgled inside me. Hearing the compliments made my chest swell with immense pleasure.

Today, I am going to marry the man I love, the man of my dreams. We didn’t have it easy. Until now, I know that several people from Sunshine’s Bay’s creme de la creme have frowned on our relationship. Even his mother never failed to show her dislike for me at every opportunity.

But Damon fought hard for me.

An assistant handed me my bridal bouquet after a filming crew called my attention to pose one last time. After a round of shots, we began our trek outside my hotel suite.

We met several people along the way. Some darted envious glances. Who wouldn’t? I was just a lowly barmaid when Damon met me.

At the time, I was unaware that he was my boss. I did not know that he runs the chain of hotels his family owns.

He flirted all through the night, but I brushed him off.

That night, I was mourning the loss of my scholarship. Juggling work and studies proved difficult, especially when you had no family to support you. My mother and stepfather kicked me out.

It was actually in a company meeting that I finally connected the dots. The man who frequented the bar where I worked, the man who sat alone and just watched my every move while I catered to clients, was actually my boss.

I apologized right after.

“For what?” He asked.

“For being rude,” I replied shyly.

He took one look at me and told me that he appreciated how hard I worked, but he told me that I deserved more. That I deserved to be the queen of my own home.

I looked at him in disbelief.

“How can I be Queen when I can’t even work my way through College. Besides, I don’t even have a home.”  I pointed that out to him, but he only shrugged his shoulders and said, “We’ll see.”

Another week passed, and he came to the bar and just watched me. At first, I didn't seem to mind. I ignored him, but when co-workers made several malicious comments about him and me, I began to feel self-conscious.

One night, I was going home late. I just got out of the hotel, and his car, gleaming with classic elegance,  stopped right beside me.

“Hop in.” Damon’s invitation was tempting.

Still, I hesitated. I didn’t want to add more fuel to the rumors circulating around the hotel that I was eyeing the boss. I told him no, but he was persistent. He didn’t take no for an answer.

That night, while in his car, he told me about wanting to date seriously. At first, I was dubious. A CEO of his family-owned hotel chains wanted to date me.

We don’t have anything in common.

Then, he told me about his past. He was about to be married, but he was jilted at the altar. His former fiancée cheated on him and eloped with her lover.

I felt bad for him and felt an affinity.  We were both rejected, cast off by the people we love.

I realized that even the man who looked like he had everything can be sad deep down, and it got to me big time.

That night became the start of a habit. He would sit at the bar, wait for me until I finished my shift, and then he would drive me home.

I had misgivings, but I can’t say no. I don’t want to lose my job.

But when I came to know Damon on a deeper level, I realized he’s someone I can depend on.

We began dating. When he asked me to marry him, I accepted.

“Are you ready?” The wedding coordinator asked when she opened the car door for me.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

An excited thrill spread through me in anticipation of what awaited at the church.

I got out of the car and waited for my cue.

The double doors closed, and when they opened, I heard the first notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D.

I gripped my bouquet, took a deep breath, and began my march.

A hush fell on the crowd. All eyes were on me, but my eyes were all on Damon.

I was a bit disappointed when I did not see the usual appreciation on his face.

He looked dapper in his suit - a dark gray ensemble that was flown in from Paris. But he looked distracted, and his hair looked kind of mussed, like he ran his fingers over it several times.

Tenderness swept over me at the sight of him.

I kind of get it. Last night when we talked, he told me that he would be up late because he had to do something. Our conversation was clipped and hurried, and this morning, I kind of missed his call. Maybe he got anxious that I was going to ditch him, too.

Inwardly, I shook my head, and my heart softened. Why would I? Damon was the perfect man for me. He was my family. He gave me a sense of belonging that my own family took away from me. He gave me a new direction, and that is to be the best homemaker for him.

My gaze swept the pews and landed on his family. Sitting on the front pew were his parents, Betty and David Olson, and his grandfather, Ryan Olson. I vaguely remembered Damon mentioning a twin, but he was nowhere in sight.

My eyes went back to his parents.

Betty’s back was straight. Her jaws were set into a grimace. It was clear she did not like me. She once told me that a lowly maid like me does not fit her billionaire son. She turned her head in my direction, and I was quick to turn my gaze away.

When I saw the pew reserved for my family, my chest tightened. It was empty. It would have been nice to have a kin on this very special occasion. But maybe it was for the best.

Momentarily, I allowed myself to feel the pain, but mentally shook the maudlin thoughts out of my head.

Today should be a happy day.

I may only have Damon, but the promise of the family we will build in the future is enough for me.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I inclined my head, and my eyes connected with the man I am going to marry. I was distracted by the expression on his face. I was expecting assurance, not a frown.

When I reached his side, he took my hand and felt an electric current coursing through our connected skin. He looked startled, and I almost laughed at how he seemed to falter in his steps.

Here comes the reaction I was waiting for. Damon really never fails to surprise me.

The ceremony began.

All throughout, I was kind of puzzled by the man beside me. He felt different, or maybe it was just me.

Then, the priest called my attention when he gave us his blessings.

“Go in peace. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

And to Damon, he said, “You may now kiss your bride.”

I held my breath as Damon gripped the sides of my waist to turn my body a little to face him before very gently lifting my veil. Our eyes connected, and I saw a swirling mass of emotions in his gaze before his head dipped and gave me a kiss that jarred me.

He kissed expertly, too expertly, that my eyes flew to his face.

And that was when realization sank in. I was not kissing Damon Mark Olson. I was kissing someone who looked exactly like him.